


the death of an innocent

by lovethybooty



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: 65th Hunger Games, District 4, Finnick's reaping, Other, Panem, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethybooty/pseuds/lovethybooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>so this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the death of an innocent

**Author's Note:**

> The quote used at the very end of the story and in the summary is from Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith. It was delivered by Padme Amidala. I recently rewatched the entire Star Wars series in order to get hyped for The Force Awakens. Since watching, I could not get this quote out of my head. It just screams Hunger Games. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I wasn't exactly sure how I wanted to write Finnick's reaping- but this will suffice.

The air is unmistakably cool in an unsettling way. Its breezes whisper of lambs and of slaughter. Finnick, as punctual as he isn’t, is almost late to the ceremony- rushing to join the small crowd of other boys just like him- tan, fourteen years old, innocent.

He had been on the old pier, just like he was every pink-skyed morning, dropping bread crumbs off into the sand for the gulls to find later. His special treat to them.

But now he stands next to a boy two inches shorter than him. Shoulder to shoulder, shoved against a mass of clammy and unnervingly sweaty teenagers.

He, however, has no reason to worry.  Finnick is only fourteen and his family fares well enough- his name won’t find itself in that glassy bowl too many times.  Still, unbeknownst to him, he is drumming his fingers against his khaki dress pants in a nervous pattern.

His mind is elsewhere, daydreaming of how he’ll spend his day after the blasted Reaping is over. Perhaps he’ll head off to the market, or maybe back to the beach.

At last, a woman with skin the color of a sickly jaundice walks up to the raised platform District Four calls a stage, her heels clicking with every step. Her beehive hair is taller than his father’s largest fishing spear, he notes. She looks funny in a familiar way. He knows that he and his friends will laugh about her later.

She speaks into a crackling old microphone- outdated and overused.  Her words fill the air, but he just can’t bring himself to listen. The speech is the same every single year. She gets up there and rambles about the history of the Games and what an honor it is to be chosen.  

Yes, he thinks, what an honor to be shipped to your death.

But of course he is young and knows nothing of life or the Games, so his opinion is rather one sided. That is what everyone tells him, anyway. Maybe someday he’ll believe them- for now, he isn’t sure.

Eventually, the yellow lady calls out a girl’s name- one he doesn’t recognize- and a tall, built frame slips out from the crowd of sixteen-year-old girls to his right. Her sun dyed locks blow in the wind as she slowly makes her way to the wooden stage. She is a Career, just like him.

Finnick sighs, bored of the pointless chatter around him. He finds himself fidgeting with the hem of his shirt when he is nudged roughly in the side.

“What?” Finnick hisses, turning to the boy who had elbowed him.

The boy, two inches shorter, stares back at him blankly, his expression sullen. His head turns back to the stage, and suddenly Finnick realizes- he has been Reaped for the 65th Hunger Games.

He takes a deep breath as he wades through the crowd of boys. He is prepared for this, he thinks. He has trained his entire life for this moment.  He will not let them down.

When he reaches the platform, pulled up by rough hands, the crowd claps sadly.    

In two weeks, he will be sent into an arena to die. Twenty-four children and only one will come out.

So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.

* * *

Finnick emerges from the arena four weeks later, a silver trident in tow, his knuckles white and raw from gripping it so tightly- as if his life had depended on it. It had.

All of Panem cheers for Finnick Odair- the youngest Victor to ever win the Hunger Games, at fourteen years old.

In Four, there are fireworks on the beach.  It is loud and the District is dancing.

When he walks onto the stage before all of the Capitol, Caesar Flickerman is waiting for him. Finnick is nervous and excited. He is basking in the ignorant glory that is winning the Hunger Games.  He doesn’t understand. No, not yet.

He is met with a cacophony of noise from a sea of people coming in all shapes, sizes, and colors. They whistle, cheer, and clap- obnoxious and oddly infectious. He smiles and waves as the cameras flash, the world screaming his name.

So this is how liberty dies, with thunderous applause.

 


End file.
